Leave me alone (I'm lonely)
by TheWeirdDane
Summary: It is obvious that Norway is annoyed by Denmark. What is not so obvious is that he also loves him. After a major fight that has them separated for almost a month, Norway realizes how important it is to be open and honest in a relationship. Brief mentioning of SuFin.
1. Chapter 1

**Oh look, something not SuFin! Anyway, here's first chap. of a fic I got inspired to write by Pink's "Leave me alone (I'm lonely)". I think it fits Denmark and Norway, and I hope this brings out why. If not... well, damn.  
**

**Thanks to DancingOnRainbow for beta-reading! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or the characters in it, nor do I own the song or lyrics. This is done for my sake and the fandom.**

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It was always the same. Whenever Denmark was over, he would be clinging to Norway as if his life depended on it. Norway, of course, was sick and tired of it and even if he told this to Denmark more than twice an hour, it made no difference. The Dane was as obnoxious, loud, bothersome and, first of all, _clingy_ as always. It annoyed the hell out of Norway. He had shouted at Denmark several times, and even though they had yet to have their first real argument, the kind that had them sleeping in separate houses, it was so close every time.

They both knew that it only took one wrong word from Denmark before that happened. And what would then follow? Only God could know.

One thing everyone seemed to misunderstand about Norway, though, was that he didn't mind Denmark's company. Or, he wouldn't have, if Denmark would just let him be alone for more than an hour a day. If Denmark would just give him a day or a weekend off, then Norway wouldn't be so sour and pissed all the time. Yes, Norway liked Denmark, he had said that a few times already. It wasn't obvious with the way he treated him but he did. He didn't want it to be too obvious. It wasn't that he was embarrassed about loving Denmark – not that much – but it was… odd for him to be in a relationship with another man.

Norway had never really pictured himself in a relationship, and not at all with a man.

But even if Denmark was annoying, clingy and _affectionate_ about 85 % of the time they spent together, he had his good sides. Not that Norway would ever admit this, especially not if there were others around. If he had to, he would say something like "… He's alright when he's asleep." Whereupon people would maybe laugh, chuckle or say that Norway should be nice.

It was the same now. Norway was getting seriously fed up with Denmark's aggravating behaviour as he sat beside him, drank beer and watched some absolutely ridiculously bad TV-show. Norway had of course wanted to change the channel but Denmark had made the classical trick of hiding the remote control in his pants. A place where Norway indeed didn't want to search for a long and hard object. Therefore, the bad show continued.

Denmark was one of those persons who didn't get drunk on beer. He could drink seemingly endless amounts of the golden brown liquid without becoming tipsy. The only thing that happened was that he became even more outgoing and social and clingy and affectionate.

You would think that was impossible.

It wasn't.

When the show ended and five empty cans of Danish beer decorated the coffee table, the Dane was halfway lying _on_ Norway, halfway beside him, resting his head on the clearly annoyed Norwegian's.

"Hey hey, Norge, whatcha wanna do now?" he asked in an excited tone, as if he hadn't just been killing nearly an hour with watching a show about two girls fighting over a man.

"I want to watch something with actual value," he muttered and pushed the other man off of him. "Which doesn't include you," he added when he saw Denmark's smirk and wriggling eyebrows.

"Aaw, don't be such a prude," Denmark said and the smirk faded into a fake pout. "I'm not giving you the remote control if you aren't being nice to me."

"I can change channel on the TV."

"But do you honestly want to move that faaar?"

But just as Norway was about to do that – whether it was to prove a point to Denmark, or if it was actually to change the channel, or if it was a combination of both – Denmark caught him around the waist, effectively trapping him.

He was grinning widely, the smile reaching from ear to ear as his hands locked around the Norwegian's slim waist and pressed him against himself. Norway was strong but not strong enough to get free of his grip even though he did try. And did so greatly.

"Let me go!" he hissed and tried to force Denmark's hands apart.

"Nei," the other said in a cheerful tone, instead holding the other tighter. One hand began to wander lower and lower, slowly but steadily, until they reached the thigh.

"Denmark, I swear, if you don't let go of me, I will-"

"What?" Denmark asked with a challenging look, "What will you do? Rock me to death?" The hand began going back up, fingers slowly and alluringly playing with the fabric of the trousers before pinching the skin, then stroking it softly.

Norway blushed. Not with arousal, however, but with anger. This was always what happened! And this was what Norway was sick and tired of! Denmark got over, they watched some awful show and then Denmark wanted to go at it. And they were together so often. Norway let him down most of the time but Denmark still came over. It was frustrating. So very frustrating.

"If you don't let go of me," Norway said, his voice cold as ice and eyes the same, "I will break up with you."

The silence was ear-splitting. Denmark did not let go of Norway but slacked the grip a bit so the man could fight his way out of it. The second he was free, he straightened his clothes and the hair that had been ruffled in the process. He didn't notice Denmark's expression until his voice made him turn his head. Then he saw disbelief and ridicule.

"What?" the Norwegian asked. He had said those things before; he didn't expect Denmark to suddenly react to it like this. Like he believed it.

"Break up with me? Seriously?"

"Why not, what difference would it make? You would still continue to bother me." Norway's voice was dull, yet had a cold undertone. His heart was beating a tad faster than usually. Today was the day, he could feel, that he would finally say the things to Denmark he should have said a long time ago. He wondered why he hadn't done it before.

But he didn't get far in his speculations before Denmark's startled voice interrupted him.

"Why would you do that?" he asked. Norway didn't answer immediately. Instead he walked over to the television and manually turned it off. Standing in front of the screen, he turned around to face the Dane on the couch. He still looked shocked but it was clear that he was already getting ready to defend himself. A hard shine was moving into his eyes.

Norway sighed. "Denmark, I don't want to believe you are as stupid as Sweden says you are, but I'm starting to consider the possibility."

Denmark was instantly up from the couch, standing firmly on both feet with legs spread a tiny bit.

"What is that supposed to mean? Why do you and Sweden talk about me? What does he say?"

"Nothing that concerns what I want to talk with you about now."

"Oh yeah? And what is that?"

After this, there was a considerable time of silence. The two men stared at each other, one with intense anger building in his chest and shining in his eyes, the other looking absolutely cool and composed. Norway wasn't one to lose his cool.

Yet somehow, this was different. Norway wasn't feeling quite so calm and composed underneath the exterior. He was also angry, oh yes, he was, but he didn't let it show. He couldn't. Norway had a problem with showing emotions, especially towards Denmark unless it was anger. And anger there had been quite a lot of through the time. Somehow, Denmark always managed to rile up the Norwegian so they would have a fight every so often.

Norway knew this would be different.

Denmark had a feeling that it might be.

The Dane was about to ask again but then he stopped himself. Instead his stare intensified, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped a bit.

"_Are_ you breaking up with me?" It was only a whisper, yet it filled the entire room now that the satiric TV-programme was turned off. Norway didn't answer. He just kept staring at the other, breathing deeply. Yes, this was going to be quite the fight.

"Are you?!" the Dane demanded to know, his voice raising a bit and his hand curling into fists. Denmark wasn't angry often but when he was, it didn't take a long time for him to be all worked up.

"In case you didn't hear me clearly, then I said I would break up with you if you didn't let go of me," Norway began, "and you didn't, so-"

"But you got free!" Denmark exclaimed, his eyes widening another bit and giving him a slightly crazy expression.

"So why do you think I'm still here?"

"… Because you want to talk?"

Norway clapped his hands slowly, clearly mockingly.

"I want to talk. And we need to."

"Why? What is wrong?"

Norway sighed. He didn't get it. Denmark didn't understand it. Wasn't it pretty clear? Wasn't it obvious how annoyed Norway was with his behaviour? Wasn't it easy to see that Norway wanted a change? It wasn't that he _wanted_ to talk about this; it would mean dealing with his emotions, and not only those of annoyance. Also of those that confirmed that he actually loved Denmark. Because he did. He _did_ love the stupid idiot, obnoxious and infuriating as he often was. He didn't get it. It was pretty unclear to him why he could love such a man.

But now, Denmark really looked nervous. The angry flame was slowly being put out and only the nervous and unsteadily burning embers remained. His eyes were moving slightly from side to side, seemingly looking for signs in Norway's face that would give away what the man would talk about.

The Norwegian took a deep breath, readying himself.

"Matthias," and already here he had Denmark's full and undivided attention – his human name was rarely used, and then only in pretty serious situations, "I want you to stop crossing my limits all the time. And I want you to respect my need for a private life without you in it."

"Why?" Denmark instantly asked, his voice suddenly hard.

"Because I can't stand being around you all the time. I need time for myself."

Denmark snorted in disbelief but before he got to say anything, Norway continued. "Listen carefully, asshat! I… I like you, and yes, God forbid it, I love you but that doesn't mean I can stand your company 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I need time for myself, where it's just me and where you are not there!"

"Sweden doesn't have that problem," Denmark said the moment Norway stopped speaking. "Sweden doesn't feel that need."

"Sweden is a whole different matter," Norway commented, internally counting to ten. Finding that ten wasn't enough, he raised it to fifty. "He has never known love before; of course he doesn't want to be away from Finland. He's desperate for his love. But that's beside the point in this argument. Unless, of course, you hunger for love just as much as Sweden does."

"No way I'd be like him," Denmark immediately snarled, just as Norway had expected.

"Good. Moving on. Why can't you understand how annoying you actually are? Isn't it clear to you that I don't always want your company? You know, when someone pushes you away, it means 'back the fuck off and leave me alone'. You should have learnt this already."

"Yeah, you use it all the time!"

"Because you are so damn annoying! I want my private space and you are constantly invading it! Stop smirking!"

The smirk left Denmark's face the moment he realized how serious Norway actually was. He even got quiet.

"All I say is that you should begin to consider how others are feeling. I don't like it when you're always with me or when you're constantly advancing on me."

"What do you want me to do, then?" Denmark asked and his voice was still so uncharacteristically hard, even cold.

"Well, obviously notice how I'm feeling, and react to that," Norway answered, feeling that this wasn't going as bad as it could have.

"Do you want me to stop hanging out around you?" the Dane then asked and even with his uncharacteristic voice it was easy to hear that he was hurt and maybe even scared. "Do you want me to not see you again?"

Norway stared at him. What? Was Denmark really so simple-minded that he did not understand there was more than that one option?

"Is there no middle way for you? You could stay for a shorter amount of time instead of not seeing me at all!"

"And then what? In a few months, you will probably rant about that 'shorter time' being too much for you again! In the end, we would end up not seeing each other at all!" Denmark was getting very worked up. Not only upset and confused but he also felt… fear. Fear of being left alone. Again. Fear that Norway, the only one who had cared enough about him to stay with him after the fall of the Kalmar Union, would now also leave him.

But he hid this. He didn't want to appear weak and pathetic. Not in Norway's presence.

Norway was also getting worked up. It was once more going as he had thought it would. And Denmark was not really helping.

"I don't see why that is so bad!" Norway shouted and he nearly regretted saying it the moment he realized what he had just said. Of course he wouldn't like never seeing Denmark again. But the idiot was just being much more idiotic than usually!

And if he hadn't regretted saying those words just by the thought of what they meant, then he sure did when seeing Denmark's reaction.

The tall, blonde and usually overly confident man suddenly stiffened. The muscles in arms and legs tensed, the royal-blue eyes widened enormously, making the man look crazy. Seconds after the shoulders had been protectively pulled up, they fell down again. His face was one big mixture of shock, fear and confusion. His hair seemed to wither.

Then real sadness kicked in. The shine that had been in his eyes didn't disappear but instead grew stronger. They looked moister.

It all only lasted for very few seconds. They were still staring at each other when Denmark's muscles relaxed , though his temples began to bulge, and his eyes got a harder shine. The moisture disappeared. In the blink of an eye, he had grabbed his coat and hat and was on his way out of the room.

"Fine," he said with an ice cold voice. Standing in the doorway, he turned around to send a last glance at Norway. "If that's the way you want it. I'm not going to bother you again, Lukas. You obviously hate me. I just thought there was also something else beneath your cold exterior."

He left the room and slammed the door shut with so much power that the hinges creaked.

Norway stood absolutely still, as if paralyzed, and stared at the closed door. He could hear Denmark stomp away. The silence that followed had never been so scary for him. He had never feared silence or thought it scary or anything, but he didn't like this kind of silence. Sure, he liked it when Denmark was asleep or when Denmark wasn't around but not after a fight. That was always a bad silence.

This just seemed to be a tad worse than usually.

Slowly, very slowly, the Norwegian sat down on the couch, his hands unconsciously finding and wringing each other. He had said it… he had finally said what had been on his mind for so long. And even if they had had a big fight, he thought it was for the better. Now Denmark knew and if he was ready to do something about his obnoxiously clingy behaviour, then Norway would be ready to accept that.

His eyes found the floor just as the door opened again and his head snapped upwards, making his neck give a painful snap.

Denmark stood there, still with his coat over the arm and hat in hand. In the other hand was the remote control.

"I believe this belongs to you." He proceeded to throw it at the couch and it landed right beside Norway. Then Denmark left again, slamming the door just as loudly as before.

Norway sighed and got up from the couch. In a few steps he stood by the door and locked it. He turned around and stared into the living room as if he had never really seen it before. He was now free to do whatever he liked. Not that he never did that, of course. But now he didn't have Denmark right behind him, breathing down his neck.

It was relieving, to be honest. He knew it was mean to think so, but Norway liked the thought. No more Denmark to interrupt his schedule or fuck up his plans. No more Denmark to always plan a party he didn't want to join but was forced to anyway. No more Denmark to complain about Sweden.

Just silence. This silence.

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**Translation:**

**Nei = No (Norwegian) (yes yes, Denmark used it, shhh)**


	2. Chapter 2

When Denmark had left Norway, the Norwegian stayed home for a few days. The silence was wondrous and he found it stunning how he could have lived without it. He used this newfound luxury to read the stack of books he usually couldn't finish because of a certain Dane. When he was done – it took no more than two days – he cleaned the house, relishing in the fact that it wouldn't be dirty again for a while. With Denmark around, it usually only took three or four hours before the floor was dirty again, plates were used or something was spilled somewhere.

Norway listened to his music and was surprised to find new tones and new vocals in songs he had heard lots of times before. He trusted that it was Denmark's fault – he had probably been talking at exactly those times.

But when there still wasn't any sign of the Dane three days later, Norway began feeling uncomfortable. The silence was still wondrous and the house still clean – only few plates and glasses had been used – and he had gotten himself some new books to enjoy, but even then, it was feeling… unnatural. He wasn't used to this. As welcome as quietude was, it didn't take long before he was uncertain whether or not it was what he actually needed. It was what he wanted but there was a significant difference between 'need' and 'want'.

And so it happened that he knocked on Sweden's door another day later. The man opened and looked surprised when he saw who it was. The surprised expression only lasted for a short second, though, before he stepped aside and let Norway in.

One might not expect the two silent and expressionless men to talk much but tonight, they did. Or, at least Norway did. He explained why he was here, what had happened and why he wanted to stay here for a while. Sweden didn't say a lot but mostly nodded and uttered a "Mh," here and there to show that he was following.

"Can you understand his nerve?" Norway snarled and took another swig from his glass with wine. "I mean, if I hated him that much, then I wouldn't even be with him! I would be more like you!"

"Mh."

"Stupid idiot. But I don't care. If he doesn't want to see me anymore, then that is fine. I don't care, I've lived without him time and time again. Why should now be any different?"

"'cause ya're not sure ya actually mean 't."

Norway shot him an incredulous glance over the edge of his glass.

"Not sure I mean it? The hell are you talking about, of course I know I'm sure!"

"No."

When he didn't say more than that, Norway stared at him for so long he was forced to continue. "If ya were sure, ya wouldn't have come t' me. Ya're here 'caus ya dunno what t' do."

The Norwegian glared at him for a while longer, not saying a thing. But the way he picked up and emptied his glass told more than anything that Sweden had hit the head on the nail.

"'s pretty simpl'. Talk 'bout 't," Sweden said and knew how ironic it was for him, a person who only talked very little, to advise another person to talk. Norway seemingly thought the same.

"Oh, I guess you talk a whole lot with Finland about your problems? Do you even have problems? You seem oh so happy and oh so joyous all the time." He didn't intend for them to do so but the words sounded sour and accusing.

Sweden nodded and drank some wine himself.

They were seated in the living room, by a big table made of dark red tree. Most likely mahogany. The chairs matched, of course, and a blue vase with roses created an interesting contrast. The room itself was large and richly furnished. Armchairs and book cases were a common thing to find in the entire house but the amount was particularly big here. In the middle of the room was a couch for three persons, a coffee table and two armchairs. These were placed in front of a fireplace. On the mantelpiece stood five pictures, all of them in golden frames – one of Finland, one of Norway, one of Iceland, one of Denmark, and one with all of the Nordics together. A small candle light separated each picture. Not too far from the fireplace was a dog basket, big and comfortable-looking with blankets, a small pillow and some toys.

"Mh. Fin 'n I talk 'bout things if they bother us. 'S not that hard." Except that it was. It was hard for Sweden to find the words he wanted when he talked with Finland about these sorts of things. He wanted it to sound as good as it did in his mind and if that couldn't be achieved, then at least make it sound respectful and nice. Sweden always wanted to sound as kind as possible when they were discussing something.

Once more, Norway stared at Sweden, this time dumbfounded. To think that even _Sweden_ could talk about such things! But that also had to mean that their relationship wasn't as peaceful and problem free as it looked on the outside.

Norway pondered whether or not to ask about it over another glass of wine, slowly sipping the red, dry liquid. How liquid could be described 'dry', Norway had yet to find out but he had never bothered to ask about it and tonight wasn't going to be the day, either. Honestly, he didn't give a damn about wine. He rarely drank it – actually only when he was out – and he had no plan of feigning interest.

In the end, he decided to ask. Might be he could get some information he could use. It wasn't like he was seeking advice or anything. He was just… interested in hearing how Sweden dealt with Finland when they were having troubles in Paradise.

"What kind of problems do you have?" he asked nonchalantly, looking over at the Swede. The bigger nation returned the glance, though showing much less emotion. He then got up from his chair, took the empty bottle of wine – Norway was taken aback by the fact they had emptied an entire bottle already – and rinsed it under the faucet in the kitchen. A soft 'clink' sounded when he put the bottle on the kitchen counter.

"Fin has his days where he doesn't wanna b' social," Sweden then answered and came back into the living room, carrying a glass bowl with various fruits and berries from the season. "He grumbles 'n scowls at me. Never Peter, though. Fin's always nice t' Peter. Som'times, he yells, too. Ya ever seen him yell?"

Norway shook his head, honestly feeling surprised about this revelation. He hadn't expected Finland to be the yelling sort of person. He was always so nice and polite, always made sure that people had fun and felt good.

"I know whatcha thinkin'," the Swede continued, pushing his glasses further up his nose with a finger. "That Fin's not the person t' yell, hm?" Norway nodded. "The war changed him. With Russia, y'know? He came back 'n was… weird. Didn't talk f'r days, rarely exited his room, looked paranoid, angry 'n scared. Barely ate. 'T was a hard tim'."

The Norwegian could understand that. Finland had always been outgoing and easy-going – like a certain stupid Dane who was hopefully far away – and he never seemed to have any worries. He constantly blabbered away, laughed and treated you like his best friend. Always out and about being social, it was hard to believe he had ever shut himself away from the world like Sweden told. To imagine that Finland walked around with a frown on his face or always looked back over his shoulder was very hard.

But that wasn't what this was about.

"But what do you do now, when he's behaving like that?"

"Let him alon'. I know he doesn't want company, s' I let him get som' peace and time alon'."

"If only Denmark did that," Norway complained and rolled his eyes, taking a grape from the bowl and poking it with a finger. "He never lets you get a moment of peace, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Why doesn't he? He's constantly bothering me, even when I ask him to back off for a while." Angrily, he stuffed the grape into his mouth and chewed on it a few times before swallowing. "It doesn't matter how I say it or how often. He's always talking with or to me, always demanding attention and he acts confused when I say that I just want a bit of silence."

"T' read?"

"Yes, that, too."

"Mh. 'S actually pretty simple, though. Den has a simple mind som'times."

"Then tell me what the hell is wrong with that man!" Norway said, frustrated, and slammed a hand onto the table. The bowl quivered.

Sweden observed him for a long time, the glasses on his face doing nothing to hinder his appearance from being stoic and cold. The blue eyes revealed nothing, whether emotion or thought.

"Fears bein' alon'," was the calm answer, said so matter-of-factly that it almost upset Norway even further. Instead he stared at the Swede with his classical poker face. Sweden understood completely, though, and continued explaining. "Ya see, Den's afraid of bein' left again. When I left him in 1523, he wasn't pleased, as ya know, and fought hard t' get m' to stay. I took ya some hundred years later 'n he was all alon'. I think he fears that more than anythin'."

At some point, this made sense. In some strange way. Yet, Norway was still frowning. Why would Denmark worry about that now? They had long since made peace with each other, and Sweden hadn't had plans about stealing Norway again anytime soon. Not as far as the Norwegian was concerned, at least. Furthermore, if Denmark was so afraid of being alone, why had he stormed off like that and not called back or texted one single time? He was obviously with Finland but – and Norway felt a little sting he refused to admit in his heart – Tino could never do what Norway could. Finland could never reach Norway's status.

Denmark would never choose Finland over Norway. Would he? No, of course he wouldn't. Besides, Sweden would never tolerate that. Denmark would be flatter than a pancake and bloodier than the streets after the Stockholm Bloodbath if that happened.

Denmark wouldn't have the nerve to leave Norway for Finland.

Absentmindedly, the Norwegian man took another grape and quickly ate it. He took another one, and another. He ignored Sweden who stared intensely at him, arms crossed over his chest.

Nothing was said for a while and the two men ended up going to bed. Norway was accommodated in the big guest room on the second floor and he was given permission to borrow some of Sweden's clothes if he could fit them. Norway doubted he could but appreciated the offer anyway.

The room was big, as was the bed. There was easily room for two persons and right now, Norway hated that. It felt wrong to sleep alone in such a big bed. Not that he wanted company here, of course. He had come to love being able to sleep alone and stretch and roll around as much as he wanted. Bad habit he had gotten there, he would have to get rid of it as soon as possible.

Across the room was placed an interesting bookcase. It was made of uneven lines and circles with diagonal boards and painted in a horrible colour that seemed to be a mix of red and green. Norway didn't know whether he hoped it was something for Ikea or it was just Sweden's taste. Either way it was strange and didn't fit the room in the slightest. A cosy armchair stood beside the bookcase and looked more normal. Without a doubt leather. A little behind this stood a lamp and created a rather good place for reading.

Beside the bed was placed a big and pretty desk with matching chair. They were created of beech and had numerous decorations on the feet and the edges. Too much, in Norway's opinion. But he didn't mind. He wasn't going to stay here for long. Denmark would call him soon and Norway would be willing to accept an apology if the man promised to pay more attention to him. In a way he appreciated, of course.

With this thought, he took off his clothes and hung them over the chair before dressing in the night clothes Sweden had found for him. As foreseen, they were way too big which annoyed Norway a bit but he let it slide. After having put it on he turned off the lights and crawled into the bed. It was cold and much bigger than his own which only increased the irrational need of having someone to fill out the space.

'Whatever,' the man thought and rolled onto his stomach in the middle of the bed, 'once Denmark is ready to apologize, I'll be sleeping in a normal sized bed again.'

And if Norway thought that would be soon, he was wrong.

A week passed and Denmark still hadn't called. This surprised the Norwegian who pretended nothing was wrong. It was quite easy as his face was always a dead piece of flesh that only rarely let anyone know the muscles could actually take on emotions. But even if his face was empty, his mind was not. Thoughts about Denmark and why he wasn't trying to get in touch were constantly bugging him and he would often catch himself in planning a call to the stupid man. Most often he found himself doing so when he was working.

At Sweden's house, you didn't really nap or sleep. You worked. If not in the house, then in the garden, and if not in the garden, then it was in the communicating building right beside the house where Sweden kept his Ikea-related stuff. Seeing as Norway wasn't as good at building things as Sweden was, he was often given the job of archiving notes, articles, orders, tutorials, blueprints and all sorts of papers that needed to be kept organized and in place.

Very little was ever said between them. The most they talked was over dinner or in the evenings when they watched a movie. And even then it was mostly only ten or fifteen minutes they got to talk before it began feeling awkward. They worked in silence, ate in silence (except for dinner) and read in silence. Norway found that Sweden also enjoyed reading books and had asked him a few questions about his favourite genre and author but as soon as Sweden had answered, they both went back to silence.

Sweden called Finland every day to hear how he, Hanatamago and Denmark were doing. Norway was also pretty sure he heard them plan to go out to dinner quite a few times; that would also explain Sweden's mysterious absence some hours every third day. On the first night, Finland had been surprised to find out that Sweden knew Denmark was with him but hadn't tried to cover it up. He answered truthfully and in turn asked about Norway. And though Sweden also answered truthfully, he said a lot less. He rarely mentioned the Norwegian or how he was doing, didn't even mention how long he had been there. Norway didn't mind, though.

The less Denmark knew, the bigger were the odds that he would cave in first.

But when yet another week was over and Denmark still hadn't called, texted or sent a mail, Norway, for the first time, began feeling nervous. He hated to admit it and didn't do so before a few days later but when he did, it dawned upon him – could there be a real possibility that Denmark was not interested in seeing him again? Could it be true that Denmark actually did fine without him and didn't want to see him?

As soon as these thoughts started to enter his mind, he decided he had to stop thinking. He couldn't think like that, it would only make him weaker and he didn't doubt that was exactly what Denmark was waiting for. Denmark had to be waiting for him to give in first but Norway was too proud to let that happen. He simply refused. Denmark was the soft idiot here who needed company, not Norway.

He wasn't sure if it was something he made himself believe or if it was real but Norway could swear that Sweden sometimes stared at him for a long time. Longer time than he would usually stare at people, that is. It was as if he wanted to ask something but never did. Norway let it slide, not caring much for it if Sweden didn't really say anything. Yet it kept bothering him as days passed by and the staring didn't stop. If anything, it increased.

Two days into the third week, Norway had finally gotten enough of the silent stare. They were working on a new bookcase-design in the communicating building when the Norwegian finally snapped. He set a box of papers aside with too much force and turned around, only to see that Sweden was already piercing him with his cold and mysterious glare.

"Okay," Norway said and crossed his arms tightly, "you have been staring at me oddly much lately. Why?"

"Ya've been actin' weird," he answered, not taking his eyes off the Norwegian for a second. Leisurely, he put down his box of tools, pulled off his gloves and carefully folded them over the handle of aforementioned box.

"Acting weird? What are you talking about?" He hadn't been acting weird, what was that nonsense!

"Ya've been pacin' back 'n forth by the phone. Ya've been drinkin' more coffee than usual. Not healthy, by the way; ya already drink for three. Yar interest in books has changed, too. Ya're readin' more romance than crime novels. Ya eat more. 'N yar curl is twisted."

Hearing all of these things said out aloud, Norway found it scary that he could agree with them. He couldn't exactly remember when he had been pacing back and forth by the telephone on the little oval table by the front door, and he couldn't remember downing that amount of coffee. Had he really begun to drink more of that? He was quite aware that he drank a lot but not that much. And he had let something as cheesy and girly as romance novels take over his fondness of crime novels? Well, that in itself was a great crime!

But these things weren't what really bothered him. He hadn't gained weight so he couldn't care less about eating more and his curl had always been a bit unruly so he could stand that, too, but the thing he _could not_ stand was what all these equalled – Denmark was changing him by not being close.

By staying away for so long, Denmark had – undoubtedly unknowing and unintentionally – made Norway change. If it was for the better or the worse, the Norwegian wasn't sure. Of course it was bad that he was eating more and that he was drinking even more coffee than usual. Pacing back and forth might not be too healthy, either. Having the curl live its own life more clearly than before was probably not a good sign. And the romance novel thing? He didn't even want to _think_ about what that could mean.

"Ya miss Denm-"

"_No_, I don't," Norway snapped, replying before Sweden had even finished his sentence. There was no need to. They both knew exactly what he had been about to say. "I don't miss him. I don't miss his arrogance and his annoyance, his obnoxious behaviour and loud voice. I don't miss his teasing touches and his stupid advances that he thinks I won't notice before he has got me."

Sweden didn't say a thing, utter a mumble or anything. He simply looked at Norway as the man went back to the task of sorting papers. It didn't pass his attention that Norway's hands were shaking more than when they began working. The man kept talking, clearly under the impression that his words made a difference on Sweden's opinion.

"I don't miss his sudden interruptions and his dorky sense of humour. I most certainly don't miss him being a silly idiot who treats me like a princess. I don't miss how his hair is soft as silk in the mornings and right after a shower. I don't miss him smiling at me so that my knees grow weak and I _don't_ miss the way he lavishes me with attention and love."

"Norway, you're-" '_Revealing yourself_,' Sweden finished the thought in his mind as he didn't get to speak it.

"No, I don't miss how he can be sweet and gentle and caring. I don't miss how he holds me and cares for me, and I could be without the way he kisses me whenever he feels like. I don't miss his constant declarations of affection that sometimes makes me repeat them. I don't miss how he loves me and how I love him."

He was about to say something more – Sweden could see that, Norway had already taken another deep breath so he could continue his rant about what he didn't miss about Denmark – but he abruptly cut himself off. His face went bright red and his hands shook even more. Yet it seemed he remained determined not to let it be too clear to the other, though he was hopelessly behind.

"I-I mean," he began, papers rustling between quivering fingers and his back turned towards the silent and unmoving Swede, "it's not like I can't live without him. Come on, we're nations, our relationships don't last forever. There will be a time when you have to move on, right? It's just that I might have found my own time to do so."

Sweden didn't like the sound of that. He knew it was true but he still didn't like the idea. He didn't like the thought that maybe Finland and he would have to part ways someday. That was unpleasant to think of but he knew it might happen. And if that day came, then he would have to be as strong as Finland. If that day really came, he would be sure to be strong and independent, not only country-wise but also as a person. He would make sure to become confident and not in need of anyone to tell him what an amazing person he was.

When Sweden didn't answer, Norway turned his head the slightest bit. The little stray curl almost quivered, completely bent and twisting itself.

"I mean…" His voice turned lower and more insecure. The papers were held more loosely. The dull, blue eyes were directed at the floor and a conflicted look haunted them. "I can't go find him. I was the one who made him leave. It was me who said that he was being too clingy."

"All he needs 's a confirmation of yar love. He needs t' hear that ya were just upset 'n that ya had been thinkin' 'bout that for a long time."

"Would he understand that? He's pretty thick-headed, and-"

"Denmark might b' stupid but he's also just real'y anxious 'bout people leavin' him 'n lettin' go of people," Sweden instantly replied, this time being the one to cut off Norway who glanced at him for just a second before looking back at the floor.

"Denmark loves ya. He'd trade his crown 'n axe for ya. I dun doubt he'd sacrifice himself for ya. 'N no matter how much ya deny it, ya feel the same way. Ya'd do whatever ya could t' save him if he was in danger."

Norway was trying to find something to fasten his gaze on. There was a small dot on the perfectly clean linoleum floor but it wasn't interesting enough to keep him from hearing every single thing the Swede was telling him. Did he honestly think he had the right to teach Norway about how he felt and why his heart was aching and beating painfully fast?

"'N he's in danger, Nor. Ever'day that goes by 's one more day he get t' tell himself ya don't love 'n need him. Ever'day that goes by 's one that takes ya apart."

"I get it! Stop talking! Geez, what happened to your 'not talking'-policy?" Norway snapped. Both hands now lay flat on the surface of the table but he had yet to turn around and make his face visible to the other. His ears were bright red.

As demanded of him, Sweden fell silent. He took his glasses with one hand and tugged a bit on his shirt. They needed cleaning. For the short time he went completely blind and everything was only a blur for him, Norway seemed to have made his decision. The papers he had been holding were put in a messy stack and he removed all the ballpoint pens and pencils he had put everywhere in his clothes. During his time with Sweden, he had found that you always needed to carry something able to write with you.

A tense, yet emotional atmosphere appeared to have settled upon them. The room seemed full of only emotions and thoughts and words that should have been said long time ago, the only mistake being that one of the involved parts was missing. All this, the thoughts, the words, memories and feelings and emotions, were abruptly broken and lifted, giving way for a way more resolute feeling. Determined and finally facing Sweden, who now had his glasses back on his nose, Norway was breathing quickly; his chest rose and fell rapidly, his face was pale but his ears red and he wrung his hands as he stared up at the bigger nation.

"I get it. I get all of this bullshit romance stuff you're blabbering about. I'll… I'll go to Denmark's and find him and I'll… talk with him. About this. God, he's being stupid again."

"He's at Fin's place."

"_Fine_, I will go to _Finland_, then, and send your little _wife_ back. Don't do anything that would burn out Sealand's eyes if he found you." With those words, he whirled around and resolutely marched towards the door out. Sweden slowly turned to look at him, his eyebrows only rising a tiny bit. Truth be told, he hadn't expected the man to actually seek out Denmark. He was, however, happy that he did. Those two really needed to sort things out.

In the doorway, Norway stopped and looked back. A frown was upon his face as he made eye contact with Sweden.

"Where _is_ Sealand, by the way?"

"At England's."

"For two weeks?"

"Three weeks 'n two days. Mh."

For a moment, Norway stared at the Swede, disbelief clear in all of his features. Did the man really bother tocount every day that passed by? But he decided not to comment on it. Instead, he turned away from the other and continued his way towards the garage. Denmark would finally get to see Norway riled up because of him. That was what he always wanted, right?

Still angry, although also incipiently nervous, he made out a route to Finland's house. It was a bit far from here but it was obviously shorter than it would have been from his own house. All the way he let the radio play whatever it felt like. He didn't even care what channel it was on, as long as the music was decent. And even if it wasn't, he didn't care enough to change the channel. Norway was simply too preoccupied with the thought of seeing Denmark again, and pretty soon. It would only be two hours and forty-five minutes before he would stand by the front door to Finland's house.

He wouldn't even care at that point. When he saw the door, he would probably not give a damn about politeness and knocking on the door before entering. If he knew himself well – and he was beginning to doubt that he did – he would just barge into the house, find Finland, kick him out, find Denmark, aggressively talk things through with him and then… do whatever seemed natural after that.

It was a good plan. It was something he could cope with and it would only require emotions at one point. That was good, that was bearable.

Norway followed the road for the next two hours, driving a lot faster than the police would accept – though he managed to talk himself out of a speeding ticket – before he began slowing down. Less than an hour till he would see Denmark again. The stupid face, the smarmy smile and charming comments. But Norway felt about a hundred per cent sure those things wouldn't happen this time. He hoped – for Denmark's sake, of course – that the man would show some respect and meekness.

That would only be fair and proper, right? It was his fault that Norway was suddenly one big mess of thoughts, theories and emotions. Denmark should make up for that.

And yet, Norway drove slower and slower towards the house until the car finally came to a stop, not too far from the garage. An old car was parked in front of it. It was obviously Denmark's. Norway could easily see the huge and absolutely loathsome dices of pink fur that Denmark liked so much. 'Made him feel even cooler,' as he used to say. Norway only wished to burn them and see if the smoke would smell as awful as the dices.

Pulling the handbrake and putting the car in first gear, the Norwegian turned off the vehicle and stepped out of it. The first thing that hit him was the cold. Quite literally. He had completely forgotten how cold it could be out here – in the middle of nowhere – and when a cold gust of wind hit him, his teeth nearly immediately started clattering.

Therefore, he scurried towards the front door, heart speeding up even more. He was so close. Had he been the creepy type of guy, he could maybe have seen Denmark and Finland through the windows. But Norway was not the kind of guy who stared through the windows at people's houses – only creepers did that. And that included Sweden. Denmark had once caught him peering through the small circular window in the front door of Finland's house, obviously hoping he could get a glimpse of his partner without seeming too much of a creep.

This had, just as obviously, failed.

But now, just as he had planned, he slammed the door open, not caring for the noise he made – in fact, the more the better; then maybe Denmark would really know how pissed he was. As he stepped inside the building, he could still hear muffled voices and low talking. He continued further into the house and reached the dining room from where the voices came.

He entered the room just as he heard Denmark say that he didn't need him. With a sting in his heart, all that Norway could say to that now was:

"Virkelig?"

* * *

**I hope you're enjoying the story so far!  
Translation:  
**

_Virkelig? = Really? _(Norwegian (and Danish)


	3. Chapter 3

When Denmark had left Norway, the Dane went straight to Finland. Finland was a cool dude, he didn't judge you – too much – and he was pretty kind. Besides, Denmark had few other choices – Sweden, Prussia and America. America was too far away, Prussia was probably out getting piss drunk and Sweden… well, Sweden was Sweden. There was no way that Denmark would vent to him after having a fight with Norway. Sweden would most likely be on Norway's side, too.

So Denmark showed up at Finland's house the best of six hours later. As he knocked on the door, he heard the merry singing of a happy Finn quickly scurrying to answer the door. He had had absolutely no idea that it would be Denmark who stood right there.

"Oh. Hey, Den," he said, surprised, and stepped aside to let the other in. Denmark didn't answer but went straight for the kitchen. He knew where the alcohol was and right now, he had a strong craving for beer. "Please, do empty my fridge." Though the words were sarcastic, Denmark knew there was a smile on Finland's lips.

He leant against the frame of the door and observed as Denmark grabbed the first the best can of beer, opened it and downed it in five long swigs. He reached for another and opened that one as well but when he drank it, it was done in a much healthier pace. There was total silence in the room as he emptied the beer, his heart and mind still working with the feeling of frustration and not being understood.

His brain had not taken a single break on the way from Norway to Finland and he was tired. He was weary, exhausted, wanted to sleep, yet he hadn't been able to. The reason he was so tired was also the reason he couldn't go to slumberland. His thoughts were constantly overrun with theories about his and Norway's relationship, how it would develop from here on, how they were to make it up, and the most important thing of all – how many of the things Norway had meant, and how strongly.

An uncomfortable, sneaky voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that Norway had meant every single thing, to such a degree that he would never want to see Denmark again. And while Denmark knew that this couldn't possibly be true, he could see the voice form a devil's grin and smile with a devil's sharp, shining teeth. Teeth that only waited to slash him and teeth that were barely covered by the lips when the devil voice silenced.

But he was determined. He wouldn't seek out Norway before he sought out him. Denmark wouldn't be the weak one this time; he wouldn't show just how much he needed Norway, just how much he depended on him.

He would wait for Norway to find him, and then he would wait for Norway to apologize. He wanted Norway to tell him exactly what was wrong, how it could be fixed and how long it would take. Because Denmark really wanted to make their relationship work. He wasn't ready to lose the last of the Nordics. Norway had been the one who had stayed with him the longest.

And he simply wasn't prepared to lose him. Not again. Norway had been taken away from him before, during the Napoleonic wars, and Denmark had seen how Sweden with a plain face but a smug glint in his eyes had taken him as a trophy for being on the winning side. Denmark knew Sweden only did it because he knew how much it pained Denmark.

Seeing Norway disappear for the second time would be too much for him.

"Come on, get up from the floor. You'll catch a cold."

"I'm a Viking, and Vikings don't catch colds," Denmark mumbled but nonetheless got up from the floor, holding a beer in each hand.

"You _were_ a Viking," Finland corrected him and led him to the living room where they sat in the couch. On the small coffee table was placed a bowl of fruit, a few books and the remote control to the television. Denmark sent it a threatening glance but his attention was soon taken to Finland.

"So, what happened?" he asked and offered to open Denmark's beer for him. He had barely reached for the can, though, before it was opened and Denmark was pouring the content down his throat.

"Nor and I had a fight," Denmark grumbled when he put the can down on the table. This would be obvious to anyone who knew the Dane. He didn't just randomly travel such a long distance and drank two whole and a half beer without reason. Of course, he did some strange things from time to time but not on that scale.

"We began yelling at each other-"

"That happens quite often between the two of you," Finland murmured but was ignored.

"And one thing led to another and in the end, we ended up parting ways." There was silence for a few minutes where Finland looked at Denmark, waiting for him to continue, and where the Dane simply emptied his beer and crushed it with one hand. Massacring the can apparently felt good because he began telling in details what had been going in Norway's house. It took a good deal of time and a good few extra cans of beer and when Denmark was done, the clock in the corner told that it was far past their bed times.

Despite the amount of alcohol he had consumed, Denmark was not even nearly tipsy. Beer had close to no effect on him. Drinking it often – 'often' as in 'before, to and after every meal' – had resulted in him being immune to it**,** and so no one should ever worry about giving him too much beer. Therefore, his explanation of tonight's event**s** was flawless. Everything was taken into account, he didn't change any small and seemingly meaningless details and even the quotations were retold almost perfectly.

Finland listened with a surprised, if not even shocked, expression on his face and when Denmark was done, it took him a few moments to react.

"Oh wow," he said and leant back in the couch, still looking at Denmark.

"Yeah, well," Denmark grumbled and grabbed an apple which he took a bite of in the same way one might impersonate a starved lion, "it's his loss. I won't be a whiny ass, I don't even need him and-" oh, what a lie that was, "in fact, I think I will learn a lot from this! I'm free now, right? I can do whatever I want without having to think aboutwhat prissy little Norway thinks of it!"

"Haven't you been doing that the whole time, though?" Finland cautiously asked. He didn't want to make Denmark feel worse, though it seemed that the Dane was already feeling better. He jumped off the couch and grabbed Finland's arm.

"Come on! Time to get wasted! I bet you have kick-ass bars around, don't you?" Denmark didn't even bother answering the other man's question.

Reluctantly, Finland let Denmark in on the best bars in the area, as well as the secret behind the rich taste of the alcohol from his country. It was strong liquor and Finland knew that Denmark would be drunk in a very short time but he let the man drink anyway. Norway and Denmark often had fights but they were rarely as big as this one, and Denmark wasn't really acting like himself. It struck the Finn that he probably needed a night out where he could get as hammered as he wanted to.

Because even though Denmark often went out to drink, he usually never drank so much that he would lose _all_ of his senses. At the most, he would lose half an hour of his memory but that was about as bad as it got.

They went out.

So now, Finland was sitting at the bar in a small but upbeat nightclub. Neon lights were flashing in all the colours of the rainbow, the music was loud enough to make everyone in here go deaf for at least half an hour when they left, and drinks were poured like there was no tomorrow. The guests yelled and shouted and cried out the lyrics of the songs they knew, stomped in the floor in tact with the deep bass and bodies writhed against others. The mood was fantastic and Finland would have been down there with his people, dancing and throwing himself around among them if he hadn't been with Denmark.

The Dane was working on his third serving of Salmiakkikossu beside him while Finland had ordered a bottle of vodka. He was watching Denmark as he struggled with getting the drink down. It surprised Tino that he was having such a hard time with it. Sure, Salmiakkikossu was strong but it really wasn't that bad.

Finally, when Denmark was done and slammed the glass down on the counter, he turned around and let himself plop down from the chair. It wasn't done elegantly and he had to use a passer-by as support so as not to fall.

"Are you going to dance?" Finland asked him, very amused when the human – a slender woman with long hair and little clothes – began flirting with Denmark who just stood there, completely lost. He understood absolutely nothing of Finnish and just stared at her, unable to find English words in his mind. When he gave up on trying to stare himself to understanding, he instead grabbed the woman's hand and pulled her over to Finland. A nearly panicked look was in his eyes but he held her close, still.

Clearly understanding what was going on, the woman repeated her words to Finland who raised an eyebrow and smiled. He couldn't say that the woman was innocent. She was most likely highly intoxicated, though.

"She is flirting with and complimenting you," the Finn explained loudly. "And she isn't shy."

"Really? What did she say?" Denmark asked and looked at the woman, smiling widely. His voice was still hoarse from the alcohol – and from yelling to be heard over the music – and he was swaying the tiniest bit.

"Well… if you go with her, I'm sure she'll show you instead of telling you," he answered with a smug smile and took his bottle of vodka to his lips, taking quite an impressive swig.

"Awesome! You tell her I'm interested!"

Finland did and the woman's eyes lit up with joy. She grabbed Denmark's arm and pulled him away from Finland. A victorious smile adorned the Dane's face and he gave Finland a thumb up and a shrill, but loud 'Kiitos for hjælpen!'. Tino simply smiled and waved them off before turning back to the bar.

"I hope you're into humiliation," he mumbled to himself and took a few more swigs of the clear liquid. He was aware that he should probably keep an eye on Denmark from now on but he also figured that Denmark would have to learn from these experiences. That was what he wanted, right?

And so, hours passed by where Finland and Denmark weren't interacting or even talking together. After he had downed his bottle of vodka, Finland himself joined the loud, dancing and sweaty crowd on the dance floor. His eyes were no longer bothered by the bright and blinding neon lights and the loud, pumping bass was more than welcome to his ears. He was used to screeching guitars and growling singers but he could do with pop music, too. It was something he had learned to endure over time.

If you didn't like pop music, you would never survive living with Sweden.

But one couldn't exactly say that Finland was good at dancing. He obviously did his best but his body wasn't designed to dance. Instead of using a small area and moving his body elegantly but strongly, he was all over the place _and_ made crazy moves. He threw his hands into the air, kicked out and twisted around in a way that caught the attention of everyone. Even the lightly dressed dancers on the platforms stared at him like he had just fallen down from the Moon.

But Finland was having a blast. He didn't go to nightclubs that often and so, it was always an adventure when he actually did. He tried his best to sing along to the few songs he knew but alas, his voice wasn't made for pop music. But Finland couldn't care less. Although he enjoyed dancing and singing, he soon found himself in need of leaving the dancing floor in favour of getting more alcohol.

With sweaty hair and an insanely fast heartbeat, he made his way past the humans, smiling widely and practically jumping instead of walking. As he reached the bar, he flung himself down in a chair and ordered whatever the bartender could recommend.

"Anything special?"

"Ei," Finland answered loudly, nearly yelling so he could get heard over the pumping bass, "anything over 35 % is fine!" The bartender looked surprised but quickly got him a glass of something green and so cold it practically steamed. Finland asked no questions but downed the alcohol in one quick go. Even he had to admit it was strong. It burned all the way down his throat and he gasped for air when he was done.

"Wow! Atta boy," he shouted, threw a few coins on the counter and was ready to jump into the crowd of humans again. The thing that stopped him, though, was seeing Denmark sprinting away from a horde of practically naked women. Confused and amused by the sight, he decided to follow after the chain of people. Unsurprisingly, it seemed that others thought they were making some sort of boogie-dance, so soon enough, when Finland found Denmark in the men's bathroom, the nightclub reverberated with people singing completely false and out of tact while they were dancing around with the hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them.

Finland waited for the most of the noise to still before he turned to Denmark.

"What the hell are you doing, man?" he asked with a wide smile and sat down next to the Dane who sat under the sinks and had a wild look in his eyes, not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

What Denmark exactly said remained a mystery but Tino got that it was something along the lines of "They're crazy, crazy, crazy!" mixed with "I miss Norge, I want him now, he's so niiiice," with a whiny undertone.

"Do you want to go home?" It was hard to speak as he didn't want to sound like he was humiliating Denmark but he simply couldn't suppress a laugh when the other answered with a "Yeeeaaah, I wanna go hooome!"

"Okay, if you just stay here, I'll be back in a sec."

It took a bit longer than anticipated, however, to retrieve his bottle of vodka. The chain of people dancing hadn't broken off and all of them seemed more than eager to have Finland join them. When he declined time and time again, they pouted but were on their way again seconds later, too drunk to really care about anything.

More than being invited to various dances, though, Finland was offered several drinks and shots from random people he had never seen before. And as he was quite fond of drinking, he accepted all of them, smiling widely to the person offering it and thanking them for it afterwards.

It was probably ten minutes, five shots and two drinks later that he finally reached the bar. He had just grabbed his bottle – he had gotten the bartender to store it away safely – when he felt a person throw oneself at him and tumble him to the floor.

"Mitä helvettiä?" he cursed and was ready to punch whoever it was away from him. No one should just come here and tackle him like that!

"Who the hell are-… Denmark?"

"Fiiiinland!" Denmark cried out and hugged Finland so tightly it would crush the bones of anyone weaker than Tino. "Where were you? Why didn't you come back?"

"Geez, Den, relax a bit! I just bumped into people who offered me alcohol! You don't turn that down, you know!"

"But I was so scared that you might leave without me!"

"Why the hell would I do that?! You would be lost without me and I don't want you to freeze to death outside or something!"

"You don't?"

"Ei, of course not! Now, get up, you need to go home!"

When they finally got up from the floor Denmark was still hanging onto Finland, holding his arms to make sure he wouldn't fall.

They staggered away from the bar, out of the nightclub and into the cold night where the people were few. Denmark was leaning onto Finland the entire time, mumbling and whining but it was all so incomprehensible that Finland gave up trying to translate it into something he _could_ understand. He caught them a taxi to get them home – after all, Tino was also intoxicated and it was starting to show – so the time spent in the cold wouldn't be too long. Not that it would be a bother to them, of course.

When they were home, Tino got them inside and under a lot of giggling and snickering made them both a cup of hot cocoa. Denmark was splayed across the couch, groaning and complaining.

"Heeere ya go," Finland chirped and put the mug on the table, "but be careful, it's still hot enough to scorch you."

Denmark paid no attention to the warning and instead took a considerable swig of the steaming hot drink. And much to Finland's surprise, he didn't complain about it. That could, however, be blamed on the alcohol.

There was silent in the room for a couple of minutes where Denmark sipped his cocoa and Finland blew cold air on his own to cool it down before drinking. Both of the men's thinking process seemed to have short-circuited; they were both staring emptily out in front of them, occasionally lifting their mug to their lips.

"I really like you, Finny."

Finland started and his head snapped to the side, finding the Dane now peering down in the almost empty mug. His head was swaying ever so lightly from side to side, as if he was losing balance, although he sat heavily and firmly on the couch.

"I mean… I really do. I know what you must think right now,"

"Oh, you think you do?" Tino began but Denmark was not going to let him talk.

"And I know that you think I'm a joke but listen to me, 'kay? Because I know solitude. I know what it is to be left alone and defeated, without anyone to care for you and without anyone to look at you like they want you to be better."

Denmark broke off for a moment, giving Finland time to put his mug on the coffee table and shift on the couch so he could see the other's face better.

"I know all of that and I know you know that, but for real, man, what do you think Norway knows? How much do you think he knows of solitude and being lonely and feeling pathetic and ynkelig and like you've made the mistake of your life?"

He still didn't look up. Maybe he thought the now visible bottom of the white coffee cup could answer him or maybe he thought that Finland would laugh at him. Or maybe he was just too far away in his own world.

Tino wasn't quite sure how to respond. His mind wasn't working as fast as it would be desirable, the haze of alcohol still fogging over most of the thought function. He was sure, however, that he knew what Denmark meant.

After a moment of tense silence, Finland answered. He did so slowly and carefully, weighing every word on his drunken tongue before letting them out.

"I think that Norway knows it, too. Not as much as you but he is acquainted with the feeling. He has had his share of bad episodes and I'm sure that he would recognize a lot of things if you told him about it. In general, I think you need to talk more together. Your relationship is more… physical, am I right?"

Denmark frowned. When he didn't respond for a while, Finland became nervous that he was going to throw up. He was just about to ask if he should get a bucket when Denmark opened his mouth and not halfway digested food and alcohol fell out, but instead words.

"My mug is empty."

"Excuse me?"

"My mug is empty." He turned it upside down, shaking it lightly to prove that he was right. "Is this a sign, Fin? Is the mug my life, and Norway my cocoa? Have I taken so much of Norway that he doesn't want to be in my mug anymore? I can't get him back, can I? I can't, like… force myself to throw him up in this ceramic thing again. It would be gross and wrong. And he wouldn't taste the same."

Wondering why that drunken talk made more sense than it should have, Finland reached out to take the mug. At first, Matthias wasn't willing to let it go but Finland insisted and in the end got it back. He put it on the coffee table beside his own and took Denmark's hands between his. Surprisingly, the alcoholic haze was slowly lifting and let him see and think clearly again.

"I will give you five beers and a crown if you tell Norway you considered throwing up cocoa and drink it again because you missed him."

Well, a _bit_ clearer, at least.

Denmark snorted and chuckled at the same time which created an interesting sound.

"Matt, listen to this, alright? You are drunk out of your mind, of course you miss him."

"I don't miss that little shit," Matthias growled, all signs of amusement instantly disappearing from his face. "He is just one type of cocoa, there are plenty of other types and brands of cocoa out there." He pointed towards the garden without looking up. Finland ignored it.

"You're drunk, your feelings are everywhere and nowhere, and you just had a major fight with a person you love very much. Of course you would feel and think crazy, but it's going to be better. Tomorrow, we are going out, okay? Not to drink but to talk. You will need fresh air and relaxing surroundings. There is a park not far from here, we'll go there. Right now, all you need to worry about is this – if Norway really was cocoa, would you then care if he was instant, powder or beans?"

This got Denmark to lift his head, his wild hair still spiky and gravity-defying. His eyes were unfocused and he blinked a lot more than usually. His hands lay heavily in Finland's, and it seemed he hadn't even noticed.

"Why would I care? He would still be him, right?"

Tino nodded and smiled widely.

"He's the brand for you, Den. Trust me. You won't be satisfied with any other. Stick to this one."

For a second, Denmark squinted and his eyebrows knotted together so much his eyes nearly disappeared.

"What the bloody hell are you raving about," he then laughed and reached up to ruffle Finland's hair. The Finn sighed but couldn't help a smile, either.

The ruffling led to a friendly fight which ended when Denmark rolled them down from the couch and onto the floor. He landed flat on his back while Finland tumbled onto his stomach, making him groan. They lay still for a while, not moving an inch. As their breathing turned slow and deep once more, Tino decided they should get up. Sleeping on the floor wasn't good for the back.

For some reason, though, Denmark hindered him in pulling himself to his feet. His hand was now holding Finland's wrist, and his head was turned to the side. As if he tried very hard not to look at Tino.

"Matt…?"

"Sweden knows it, too," the Dane mumbled almost inaudibly.

"What?"

"Sweden knows loneliness, too. And he knows what it is to feel like I have felt. Don't… don't let him experience that again, Fin. You are a good guy, so don't do that to him. Stay with Swe. Despite being an ass, he deserves happiness. I see what he means to you. He would sacrifice himself for you. Prove to him that you're worthy of his devotion. Don't leave him. I… I don't want to see him unhappy again."

Finland, who had been about to dial the number to the hospital, afraid that Denmark had gotten a serious concussion, sat completely still on top of him. Was the man seriously talking about not hurting Sweden, a man and nation he was renowned for hating? It seemed he had gotten a bit more alcohol than his system was able to handle.

"I-I think you should go to bed, Den," he began and once more tried to get up and off of Denmark, but the other showed surprising strength when his grip tightened around Tino's wrist.

"I'm… I'm serious, Fin. Promise me that you won't hurt him. You're both my family, I don't want tosee either of you unhappy or sad."

Feeling uncomfortable by this kind of drunken talk, Finland looked around him as if he expected someone to jump out from somewhere. Of course it didn't happen and so, he looked back down at Denmark who now also looked up at him. There was a determined shine in his eyes, though they were still glassy because of the alcohol.

"I… we're nations, Den, we always end up hurting someone."

"I don't mean as a nation, I mean as a person. Fuck the relations as countries and nations and states and whatever shit we are but as a person, don't give him reason to be sad. I don't want that."

"… You're definitely going to bed, you've had too much alcohol."

"Fin." The Dane pulled the other down, earning himself a yelp.

"What?!"

"Promise me."

"How could I promise such a thing? I might make a mistake some day! Of course I don't want to hurt him but times change, Den, and so do we and our emotions. It's a dangerous thing to guarantee."

As much as he wanted to do it, Finland just couldn't. Obviously he didn't want to hurt Sweden or make him sad or anything but so many things could happen. Their countries could be called to war. They could disagree on things so strongly they would be forced to break ways. New bosses could hate the other with a passion so burning their alliance was forced to end. All these things would hurt both of them but Sweden the most. Finland was a cheerful guy, he talked a lot and he was very friendly; he wouldn't have any problems making new friends. He had tried several hardships, one more wouldn't crack him.

Sweden was different. He kept to himself, didn't talk much and had a scary appearance. People avoided him and nations were unsure how to act around him, if not directly intimidated. He appeared grumpy and mean but he was the exact opposite. While he only spoke few words, hundreds of thoughts constantly ran through his mind. Sweden was a complex man.

Finland sighed and closed his eyes, admitting defeat.

"Alright, fine, I promise. I won't hurt Sweden or give him reason to be sad. Of course I don't want that." He missed the sight of Denmark's face which flashed a smile so sincere it would blow everyone's mind. It was soft but wide and held all the sincerity Matthias was able to feel. So did his words when he spoke.

"Thank you, Tino."

With that, he closed his eyes, gave a loud snore and his head rolled to the side. He was fast asleep and his grip on Finland loosened enough for the man toget out of it. He stood from the floor and looked down at the sleeping Dane, rubbing his wrist. A smile was pulling the corners of his lips upwards.

"Seriously. If I knew you would be this emotional, I would never have taken you out to drink, though I guess these things are good to know. Wonder how Sweden will react when he finds out."

Finland smiled widely, grabbed Denmark and got him onto the couch again. He proceeded to fetch a thick blanket, a bucket, a water bottle filled to the brim with cold water and a clean glass. The blanket was carefully tugged around the snoring man while the bucket was placed on the floor, just beside where Denmark's head was. Bottle and glass were placed on the coffee table and Finland took the mugs with him into the kitchen before he turned off the lights in the house and went to sleep, still with a smile on his lips.

Next morning, when Finland woke up, he could feel a warm body beside him. Groggy and still with sleep in his eyes, he turned his head to the side and stared directly into soft but messy hair that smelled faintly of trees and hair spray. The owner snored loudly and his breath reeked of strong alcohol, with a whiff of vomit. Finland wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant smell but still draped his arm over Denmark's shoulder. The man unconsciously snuggled closer.

"In seek of company, huh?" Finland mumbled and ruffled the hair before closing his eyes again. It was probably early; they could still sleep for a while.

When they woke up again, the sun was high in the sky and shining right into their faces. Denmark was the first to open his eyes and he groaned loudly and painfully by the sudden and strong light before rolling away. Finland laughed, got up and made them breakfast.

They did go for the walk Tino had talked about. They did get to talk and they most certainly also got some discussions and minor fights. But they always sorted it out and in very short time, it felt like they had always been living together.

Denmark had sort of moved in with Tino. Every day he was a bit anxious because there was no Norway and every day he fought the urge to call him. He was determined not to show that he missed him. Every day was filled with the burning hope that Norway soon would call him, send him a text message or an e-mail. Every single day, Denmark strolled around with the wish that Norway would soon do something.

Denmark went out to drink with Finland again, of course he did. And Tino enjoyed this. He loved to drink with Matthias because he was so amusing when intoxicated. Tino had had his share of two-man drinking parties with Russia – occasionally the Baltics and Poland, too – and as fun as they were to compete with, a winner was rarely found. All of them were pretty hardcore drinkers and could sustain impressive amounts of alcohol so when one of them finally got knocked out, the others would follow in ten to fifteen minutes, and no one would remember the next day who passed out first.

With Denmark, it was entirely different. He was easy to knock out if he drank anything else than beer. Beer got you nowhere if you tried to outdrink him but if you gave him vodka or rum, he would be drunk in theblink of an eye. It was amusing as well as it was cheap. Finland usually didn't drink at bars to get drunk but simply to loosen up (as if he could loosen up any more). But when they went to a nightclub and Tino let Matthias run off to the dance floor, the smile disappeared and his eyes would take on a worried shine.

He was secretly anxious about where Denmark and Norway's relationship was heading. Norway hadn't called, texted or anything. For all they knew, Norway could plan to never get in touch with Denmark again. Sweden, on the other hand, called Finland about every day to hear what was going on and how they were doing. Denmark demonstratively ignored him, clearly embarrassed by the things he had said after the first night out with Tino. But when Sweden called, he rarely mentioned Norway.

He didn't say anything about how he was doing or where he was – though Tino was pretty sure Norway was staying with him – and didn't even tell them what Norway had been up to in the past weeks. Finland tried to get him to reveal something but Sweden was as hard to crack as ever, even for Finland. He boosted his charm and sweetness when talking with the Swede and when the topic turned to Norway. But no matter what he did, Sweden only responded with "Dunno.". It frustrated Finland to no end but not more than it frustrated Denmark.

He pretended it didn't matter, waving off Finland's apologies when there were no news about Norway, saying that it was okay and that the idiot was probably eating fish and drinking coffee in his shitty forests. He would smile all the while, laugh loudly at Tino's jokes and play with the dog, walk her and train her, as well as he would help with the daily chores despite Finland insisting it wasn't necessary. Matthias replied with his favours being in return for getting to stay over.

But despite his efforts, Finland noticed that it was wearing Denmark down to not know anything about Norway.

Almost a month after Denmark and Norway's fight, Tino and Matthias were eating dinner. It was done in relative silence, seeing as Tino always talked about something and was now just telling a joke. When he was done laughing, Matthias' smile disappeared and his eyes dropped to the plate. He poked the food with his fork. Tino took a few more bites of his food before he sighed.

"Why don't you just call him? What are you proving by doing this to yourself?"

"That I can do without him," Denmark said and pushed his plate away. He was done eating. "I've been doing great without him, I've been having fun and I've learned a lot about you. Only win-win situations, right? I don't need him."

"Virkelig?"

* * *

**Did you think I was gonna be done? Muhahaha.  
Translations:  
**

_Kiitos for hjælpen! = Thanks for the help! _(Kiitos = Finnish, hjælpen = Danish)  
_Ei = No _(Finnish)  
_Mitä helvettiä? = What the hell? _(Finnish)  
_Ynkelg = Pitiful _(Danish)  
_Virkelig? = Really? _(Norwegian (and Danish))


	4. Chapter 4

**Look whose beta-reader is being awesome and handing you the last chapter!**

* * *

Both Denmark and Finland turned around the second they heard the familiar but unexpected voice. They both knew who it was before they laid eye on him but seeing Norway stand in the doorway to the dining room was a surprise. He looked… awful. Annoyed as always, sure, but also oddly tired (were that black bags under his eyes?) and exhausted. There was no way that the lighting could be blamed for the way his hair looked ruffled and his eyes red.

The air was tense between them as Denmark and Norway stared at each other with undeterminable expressions and Finland looked from one to another, fidgeting with a hemof his shirt. It seemed like almost five minutes they just sat and stood there, waiting for one of the others to break the silence. It was only done when Tino scrambled to his feet, quickly and hurriedly taking the plates, glasses and cutlery into the kitchen, whereupon he grabbed his coat from the hook and dashed into the entrance. Stopping halfway, he turned around to look back, about to say something.

Norway shot him a glare that got him to be on his way again.

When the door slammed shut, he once more laid eyes on Denmark who hadn't moved an inch.

"Virkelig?" he repeated in the same commanding tone, aggressively pulling off his jacket and throwing it unto the hook before marching fully into the dining room. "You don't need me anymore, huh?"

It took a moment for the perplexed Denmark to find a proper response but when he did, he leant back in his chair, crossed his arms and legs and withdrew his feet under the chair. His aura was hostile even if his posture showed nervousness.

"Yeah, that's right. I don't need you anymore. I have learnt a thing or two in the last three weeks." His voice was cold and hard, but his eyes wide and his heart thumping rapidly in his chest, as if trying to force its way out.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Like what? Like how to deal with your drinking problem?"

"It's not a 'problem'," Denmark argued with a sour tone and crossed his arms tighter. Norway stood in front of the table and stared down at him, his blue eyes as dull as ever though they had… a shine of something that Denmark was not used to see. Something like exhaustion, maybe? "There's nothing wrong with enjoying a few cold beers every now and then."

"You drink that alcoholic piss every hour of every day," Norway snarled. "Tell me, what have you learned? I'm interested." But everything about him told the exact opposite. His posture was hostile and his voice cold as ice.

"It's none of your damn business. You're not my boss, I don't have any obligation to tell you anything."

"Trust me, I'm happy not to be your boss. I'm not sure I could get you to do anything."

"Are you fucking kidding me? If anyone should be able to make me do anything, it would have been you. But I guess I don't matter shit to you. That's nothing new, of course, I'm used to that by now. Go on, what else were you going to yell at me?"

Norway stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and surprise in his dull eyes, though this was quickly removed and frustration took over. At one point, it was amazing to see so many emotions suddenly appearing in the usually expressionless face.

"Fine. I'm sure you've learned how to drink a bottle of vodka in less than ten minutes, you've probably learnt how to sleep in snow without freezing your dick off, and I don't doubt that you found the lessons about partying in a nightclub full of hot and young women the best but what about the things that matter?"

When Norway finished raging – which was done in a surprisingly, but intimidatingly low voice – Denmark just blinked. He was not really sure what was the most shocking – that Norway had said 'dick' or the fact that he showed anxiety about 'the things that matter'.

It took him a few moments to find the use of his tongue again.

"Like what?"

"Like you and me, you shitty asshat! Haven't you been thinking of me at all? Haven't you thought about how to fix this?" He was so upset that he apparently didn't notice how he had just revealed his own anxiety and desperation for their relationship. Without realizing it himself, he had shown utmost nervousness about the thought that maybe Denmark hadn't been thinking about him at all.

His hands were on the table, white and shivering the tiniest bit. The veins were slightly more visible than usually. His breathing was hard and rugged as he stood there, pinning Denmark to the spot with his eyes. The stare was intense and even though it didn't show in his body language, Norway was desperate. He was so desperate to get Denmark to understand without having to say too many words.

Denmark looked away, his gaze downcast. He had been thinking about Norway, of course he had, how dare the man suggest otherwise? Every day had been a fight because he had not been there, every day had been a fight because Denmark couldn't call him and give in like that. All thanks to his stupid pride.

This seemed to only fuel Norway's rage.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he demanded loudly and his hands were balled into fists.

"That's my own choice! You're not my mom!"

"And thank God for that! I asked you a question! Did you even think of me or were you busy learning how to deal with your irrational fear of solitude?"

He had barely finished the last word before Denmark jumped up and slammed his hand down onto the table. Norway started, taken aback by the sudden action when the other had been sitting nearly still the entire time. But now, his hand was shaking and he had a wild and… hurt expression in his eyes. He was so angry that his face turned pale. There was no deep and calming breathing, no second to think his words through, nothing, before he began yelling. Really, actually yelling.

"Irrational fear of solitude? _Irrational fear of solitude?_ Let me ask you a thing, Norway; how did you feel just two weeks after I left? Did you feel anxious? Nervous? Desperate to get in touch with me but fighting not to do so for whatever reason? Did you feel any desire, even the smallest bit, to make it up and fix things, but found me suddenly gone?"

Norway wasn't sure what he was going to say to that but that didn't matter since Denmark wasn't done. Still with the wild look in his eyes, he went on.

"I'm sure you did. But imagine that, _just ten times stronger_, and throw in anger, despair and pain from several hundreds of years. I have been left, time and time again, and I have been betrayed time and time again, even by people I considered friends. I have been lied to and made the laughingstock of fucking Scandinavia! I have messed up, sure I have, we all have, but it's only _me_ who is being blamed! _I'm_ getting accused for everything that goes wrong between us, and _I_ have to suffer the consequences! It's tiresome and it hurts! I'm sick of it!"

About halfway through his small speech, Denmark began pointing at himself with a pale, quivering finger. In the end, he ended up poking himself hard in the chest with said finger, harder and harder for every word.

The Norwegian was in a state of mild shock. While he did know these things that Denmark spoke of, and while he did know that they ought to have had some sort of consequence, he hadn't thought it would have been like this. But there was something that didn't add up in his mind: if Denmark felt that way about them, then why did he insist on always being with him?

His voice came off as much harder and crueller than he had anticipated when he asked.

"You are not making sense. You fear solitude but want to be with me, though you fear I might leave you. Why?"

"I thought you were different!" The answer was immediate and while the furious hint was still in his eyes, hurt began to shine through as well. "I thought you would never hate me enough to leave me or kick me out! I know I haven't been the best partner one could hope for but I had never thought you would do that! Can you imagine," his voice went down a notch, "how that was? To realize that you also dislike me so?"

Norway couldn't say a word. He had prepared a whole lot of things to say when he finally met with Denmark but it seemed as though it was impossible right now. Denmark continued, his voice even lower than before.

"I thought we had finally gotten over the big hardships in our relationship. Thought that I could finally begin relaxing about you not leaving me or hating me. Thought it for sure. Then this happened."

"… This has nothing to do with solitude," Norway said, trying to get them back on a more comfortable track. He wasn't happy about what Denmark was saying; it hurt him and made him feel cruel.

"Then think outside just solitude! I fear it because the thought of being unloved frightens me! The thought that nobody wants me around, that I have disappointed everyone so much they don't even want to talk with me! This is just as much about love and contact with others as it is about being alone."

There was silent for a couple more minutes. Norway hesitantly reached out to pull out a chair and sat down. Denmark copied his movements seconds later, sitting back down heavily and breathing quickly.

"That's… that's why I fear it but want to be with you. I cling to you because I'm afraid of losing you if I do anything else. Now, go on, continue to mock me, that was what you came here for, wasn't it?"

It was clear that he attempted to sound harsh and like it didn't really matter to him what Norway said but he was revealed and betrayed by his own body. His gaze flickered and he continued unfolding and folding his arms. He touched the bridge of his nose for a few seconds.

And it was just as clear that Norway had no intention of mocking Denmark any further. He hadn't even arrived with the idea of doing so. He had come here to sort things out, not be a bitch towards Denmark. At least, not _that _much of a bitch.

He sighed deeply and put his hands on the table, looking at them and being absolutely determined not to look at Denmark. The fingertips were only centimetres from Denmark's but it was impossible to know whether or not this was intentional.

"Look, Den-"

"No, let me say a thing more," Denmark asked and his voice had gotten a soft, almost vulnerable undertone. Norway blinked a few times in surprise but didn't say anything, instead let Denmark have a few more words.

"I… I know I have been fooling around with others, strayed from you and that I may have appeared… unfaithful to you but I have always come back, right? I have never left for more than a few days, I have always returned."

Norway used the following silence to consider these words. They were true. He knew that Denmark had been goofing around and had 'sexual practices' with others but Denmark was right – he had always come back to his side, always with an insecure, almost afraid, smile and careful greetings. As if he knew that he was risking losing Norway.

The strange thing was that Norway had never once thought of dumping him. He had never thought about breaking up with Denmark, not even after finding out what he was partaking in with others. Why was that? He knew that Denmark liked others, so why hadn't he just said 'fuck this' and let Denmark to stray about as he apparently liked?

He couldn't deny that there may have been something about the man that kept him spellbound. There was something about his nature, his personality – even the annoying parts – that he didn't want to be without. He just couldn't exactly figure it out. He knew very well what the feeling was called but he didn't have in mind to say it out loud. There was no reason for that.

But as he agreed with himself on this, Sweden's words entered his mind. _"All he needs 's a confirmation of yar love. He needs t' hear that ya were just upset 'n that ya had been thinkin' 'bout that for a long time."_ He turned the words over a few times in his mind, trying to find the best way to tell them, if they so necessarily had to be said out loud. Norway was not good with such words. Would now be a wrong time to say them? If so, when should they be uttered? He couldn't just let them out nonchalantly… he had to sound like he meant them.

For he did. He loved Denmark a lot, he just… wasn't the type of person to show it.

"Look, Denmark," he began again and he finally found the courage to look up. How strange it was, that he was the one in need of finding courage! "I'm… I'm sorry about what happened, okay? I was just… I had been thinking about that for a long time and it just sort of slipped out because I got annoyed with you." He took a small break, moisturizing his lips with the tip of his tongue.

"I had been upset about your clinginess for a while and that day, you were just unlucky enough to release it. I didn't mean to… to make you leave. I would never do that on purpose with all my senses intact and unprovoked."

Denmark's eyes widened, an expression of surprise growing on his face. It looked stupid. But that was probably one of the many small things that Norway actually really liked about him.

"I… guess I'm trying to say that I don't… hate you, as I have deceived everyone, and apparently also you, to believe. I'm sorry for having given that impression." Was this the time he was supposed to say 'I love you'? Wouldn't now make a fine timing? He was already in the middle of cringing out his soul, so why not take it all the way?

"I know I don't say it enough but…" Oh for Christ's sake, why couldn't he just say it? Why was it so hard for him to say those three little pesky words? He cursed himself inwardly and took a deep breath, gaze firmly locked with Denmark's.

"I don't say this a lot, Denmark, but I really love you."

There, done, it was said. And as soon as those three small but enormously significant and deep words were said, it was as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He felt a little bit lighter – or maybe it was just his head? – and he could breathe a little bit more freely. He was also pretty sure, though, that he had now a nervous flicker in his eyes. When the words were said, then what? What would come now? Had the timing even been right? Those damn romance novels hadn't taught him anything about this! And Denmark just sat there! He wasn't saying a thing, just sat there with his stupid, confused expression, looking overwhelmed and nervous.

"H-How little sleep have you been getting to say such a thing?"

Norway's face stiffened. His jaw tensed. This was exactly why he never said these things to Denmark! He always made them into some sort of joke, and that angered Norway.

"I swear to God, Denmark, if you-"

But Denmark silenced him. First with a hand in the air, then with a kiss on the lips. It was brief, impossibly brief and only just left the instantly recognizable taste of beer. Then it was over and Norway found himself in need of opening his eyes. As he did so, he met Denmark's happy gaze.

"I'm sorry, Nor. I know it took a lot for you to say that. And I know that you mean 'em, from the very bottom of your heart."

"Sappy-alarm," Norway warned but his voice was endlessly relieved and breathy. His lips even curled a bit, making it look like he was just about to smile.

"I'm so happy to hear that." Denmark's voice had turned a bit husky. As he leaned back down in his chair, he licked his lips, catching the faint taste of cold butter.

"What? Sappy-alarm?" The voice was almost as serious as ever but a light undertone made it clear that Norway was actually joking and that he was now ready to sort this out. Denmark breathed out in a part laugh before the corners of his lips slowly dropped and the smile disappeared.

There was silent in the room for a while. Denmark and Norway weren't looking at each other but instead on the furniture, the decorations and basically anything that could take their attention away from the other.

In the end, it was Denmark who broke it. With a serious expression that didn't fit him, he looked up and directly at Norway.

"Alright. Nor, you came here to talk. I'm happy for that and I'm more than willing to get things back on track. So, what have you been thinking about? What can I do so this won't happen again?"

Norway didn't respond for the first thirty seconds. He continued staring at a picture on the mantelpiece which represented all of the Nordics, Sealand and Ladonia. The kids were standing by Sweden and Finland – obviously – while Denmark, Norway and Iceland stood together. All of them were smiling, even if it was only the tiniest bit of the curl of a lip in Norway's case and nothing more than a slightly less scary face for Sweden.

It was actually a rather cute picture. They were all dressed nicely, managing to not appear too elegant or formal.

As Norway was so slow to answer, Denmark really had time to grow nervous. He began fumbling with the belt on his jeans, coughed and cleared his throat quite a few times, did small things that witnessed of the anxiety rising within him. When Norway finally looked back at Denmark, he looked far from his usual, confident and cold self. His pupils were a bit wide and he took a hand to his hair, fumbling with the strands.

"First of all, you have to understand that I'm not… not the clingy type of… partner." Denmark nodded. He knew this very well. Norway went on.

"Since I'm not like that, it's not really comfortable for me when you are constantly around me and always try to get in touch with me. It feels like you try to own me, and I will not accept that." For a moment, his eyes got a hint of the incredible strength he held within, and Denmark instantly understood that this was something he would have to work on. He nodded again, crossing his legs.

"I'm your partner, not your private property," Norway continued and Denmark nodded once more, this time more aggressively so it was clear that he had understood.

"And… Listen, Den." He put the hand on the table, not sure himself why. If he hoped for Denmark to take it or if he just wanted it to lie there. "I'm aware that I don't speak a lot and that I can be a bit tough to figure out and such but you just… you have to deal with that. I can't change it."

His gaze flickered a bit, running from Denmark's eyes to his own hand and back. As if this was an invitation, the Dane took Norway's hand in his and squeezed it gently.

"I can deal with that."

Norway made the smallest back-and-forth movement with his head, not quite a nod but signalizing he had gotten it.

"You will also have to get used to… not staying over all the time. I would never leave you, so even if I understand that you can't get rid of that fear of solitude, you have to trust me when I say this." He made a small pause, as if waiting for Denmark to nod or voice either his agreement or his disagreement. Neither of it happened; the man just sat there, looking at him with clear eyes.

Norway cleared his throat and continued. How long had he been speaking? Far too long, that's for sure. He was not at all used to talking this much, and especially not about this sort of topic!

"You have to understand a few things about love, Denmark." Wasn't this just perfectly ironic? Norway, teaching Denmark things about love. France would laugh his ass off if he knew about this, and he would probably correct Norway a few times. But now there was no France around so the stage was all Norway's.

The Dane looked just as incredulous as Norway had imagined he would.

"How love works for me, that is… First of all, if you give me some room, there will be room enough for two. If you just let me have some days alone, I will… happily… have you over.

"You see, I really do love you. And as… sweet and great you can be, you're just too clingy. If you give me a chance to really miss you, I might… even come to your place." His other hand went to take Denmark's in his. It was both to show that he meant it and to hide the fact that his hands were actually shaking. Not much but noticeable. What the hell was he doing? He didn't get it, not really. How could he be saying all these things now? He had always had problems with talking about love and what he felt for Denmark. And just feelings in general.

"I don't want to wake up with another, but I don't want to always wake up with you, either. Have I made myself clear?" He seriously hoped he had. He was running out of cheesy things to say, running out of ways he could convince Denmark that his love was just as real and burning as it had always been. Though there always was the physical way… but that was too much, Denmark would surely understand what he had said. There would be no need for such things. Hopefully.

Given that Denmark was staring at him, mouth agape and eyes so wide open it was a wonder they didn't roll right out of his head, Norway was pretty sure he had gotten his point across. The shadow of a small smile spread on his lips as he waited for the Dane's answer.

"I… I think I can work on that."

That meant 'yes', didn't it? In Denmark's way, it had to.

"You don't talk much, and I don't get to stay over as often or long as usually. If that's what it takes to stay with you, I would do it time and time again. If that was possible, of course."

Norway raised an eyebrow slightly, but instead of looking doubtful, he looked… almost amused.

"You're not my property, I get that, but I won't share you with anyone, either."

"Of course not," Norway replied, a little too quickly, and he bit his lip, feeling his cheeks heat up just a bit. But it didn't matter. There was no use for shyness now.

"I mean… of course I won't fool around with others. I can't do that. I don't understand how you can."

Denmark was quick to try and rescue his reputation on that one but before he got to really explain and apologize again, Norway silenced him with a hand.

"I know, Den. I know you only love me. I haven't told you not to do it, have I?"

"No, you haven't." A glimpse of a smug smile went over his face but when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was hesitating. "Why, exactly? Why do you still allow it?"

Norway blushed even more but he didn't look away. Determined to carry out this conversation no matter how it turned out, he answered in a slightly shaky, slightly anxious tone.

"Well… I thought that maybe I'm… not good enough for you. Since you have these… acts… with others. Maybe I can't satisfy you."

The words hung in the air for a while. He let go of the other's hands in favour of brushing some hair behind his ear. His nose decided to itch so he rubbed it lightly with a finger. Wouldn't the man just say something…? Were his fears reasonable or was he way, way off?

The longer Denmark was silent the more nervous Norway got and he began to curse himself for even having said that. No matter what Denmark's answer was going to be, he would definitely mock him later…

"Lukas. Lukas, look at me." Without realizing it himself, Norway had turned his head a bit to the side, focusing on the nearest kitchen appliance his eyes could find. For whatever reason. Somehow, that was easier to canalize his attention at than Denmark at the moment.

Denmark took a gentle hold of Norway's chin and turned his head back so they got eye contact. The king's blue eyes were sincere and his words heartfelt.

"Lukas, why would you ever think that? Have I ever given you reason to believe you didn't satisfy me sexually?"

"Given that you do it with other people-"

"Has there ever been a time, _with you_, where I looked like I wasn't enjoying myself?"

"Den, can you please not-"

"Can you remember just once where you didn't make me-"

"Matthias, please-"

"Just once where you didn't have me begging for your-"

"I said, _stop_!"

The Norwegian was now blushing furiously but instead of looking mad, he was trying to hide a wide smile. Denmark looked at him with a telling grin and raised eyebrows.

"See? Lukas, why would Iever feel like I'm not satisfied with you? You do know that sex is best when it's with someone you love, right? And I seriously hope that you know I only love you. I have only ever loved you."

Norway looked back at Denmark for a few seconds before nodding. Of course. He knew all of that. It had maybe been crazy of him to think such things. But now he at least knew that that wasn't the reason Denmark was spending nights under covers with other people.

"Then… then why do you do it? If it's not because I'm not good enough."

"Well…" Denmark looked like he needed some thinking time on this one. Not because he had to come up with a reason, though. More like he had to consider carefully how to say it.

"I don't know how I can say this so it sounds just somewhat nice, but… they have another take on the whole act. Like… they have kinks." And he was quite sure that Norway did not have kinks. He had tried to ask some times, of course, but Norway had never really answered him.

"…"

Awkward silence arose.

"Uhm… you see, I can live out some of my… well, fantasies with 'em."

Well, this was getting really awkward. In fact, the two didn't know much about each other's sexual preferences and kinks but it had always been Denmark who had been in the lead.

"Have you ever mentioned these… fantasies… for me?"

Denmark nodded slowly.

"You said you wouldn't consider it even if I somehow got you a new albino moose."

"… I see." Well, then it had to be some pretty far out fantasies. Or maybe he was just _that_ vanilla? Was he maybe boringcompared to others? Norway couldn't remember the things in detail but he had a feeling he… he might maybe give Denmark a chance on that one.

"Okay, look… I have given you something to change a bit. Now it's time for my change." The Dane looked on, thinking he maybe knew where this was going.

"If you follow what I've told you, I will… try out these things with you." Maybe he would actually like it. Just a bit. That would be embarrassing, though.

"Nor, I don't want you to force yourself to try something you're not comfortable-"

"Cut it out, Den, and accept my offer before I change my mind. Besides… isn't it only fair? I'm asking you to do something you really don't like, even fear, so the least I can do is to try and… expand my… horizon."

"Alright, alright, I won't say no to that," Denmark said with a wide smile and got up from his chair, quickly getting around the table to embrace Norway in a tight hug.

For some seconds, the Norwegian wasn't moving a muscle, but simply sat in the chair – he hadn't had time to get up – and had Denmark's arms around him. Then, after a little while, he sighed and pushed away from the table and the chair, hugging the other back. It was… so long time since they had touched each other. Norway had nearly forgotten how firm the other's body was and how much he smelled of fresh wood. A whiff of lush grass was also hanging around him.

He grasped the other tighter, his hands clinging desperately to Denmark's jacket so that he couldn't leave. His head was soon buried in the Dane's shoulder and his breathing had turned a tad superficial.

"You idiot… why did you never call?"

The taller blond closed his eyes and leant his head against Norway's. He hesitated to answer fora second or two, though not really sure why. There was nothing to hide. The reason for his lack of calls was probably very much like Norway's.

"My pride denied it. I didn't want to cave in as the first. Why didn't you call?"

"Same reason."

"Thought so." Then another question nagged on Denmark's mind. Sweden had been awfully silent about Norway, even if they had to have spent the time together.

"Why didn't Sweden say anything about you? You did go to him, didn't you?"

Norway nodded, his head sliding a bit lower and resting against the other's chest. He could hear Denmark's heartbeat. It was surprisingly fast. Was he nervous or something? What was there even to be nervous about for him? This was something he, Norway, should be anxious about, not him. The reason Sweden hadn't known much about Norway was pretty damn simple. He nodded at the last question; that didn't need any form of elaboration.

"Because I didn't tell him anything. I knew Finland would ask so I made sure Sweden wouldn't have anything to tell him. I wanted you to cave in as the first. My dignity kept me from doing so," Norway answered quietly, his head vaguely nuzzling Denmark's chest.

"Sneaky."

"But not sneaky enough, it seems. You never called, you never mailed. Nothing."

"You sound like a boss from a bad mafia movie. But you're right. I figured that since you made me leave, you would have to take me back," the Dane explained and wove his fingers through Norway's blond, ruffled hair. It wasn't neat and silky as he was so used to. It felt stiff and not at all Norway-like. The man must have been really upset if he hadn't even tended to his hair. Of course he wasn't obsessed with itin a France- or Poland-like way but he preferred his hair nice and taken care of.

"And now I have."

Denmark looked a bit surprised but his face soon smoothened and he hugged the man tighter.

"You have? Really?"

"Mh."

"You can say it directly, you're not Sweden."

"Walking a thin line there, Den. But yes, I take you back if you follow the guidelines."

"Your every word… mistress."

Norway softly punched him in the stomach but couldn't help an actual smile graze his face as he leant his head backwards a bit. Denmark's lips met his seconds later and his grip of the jacket tightened.

The fight ended there. When they were both clear of what to do in the future, they could clearly see that Norway had always had the remote control of Denmark's life.

And there was no way that Denmark could possibly change the channel.

* * *

**Cheesy ending is cheesy. I hope you have liked it, and that you would take a moment to leave a review. ^^  
Translation:  
**

_Virkelig? = Really? (_Norwegian (and Danish))


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